To the End of the World Or Time
by UnderLilacSkyes
Summary: AU - Snow and Charming successfully drove the Evil Queen out of their kingdom, but that only delayed her curse... by about twenty-eight years, give or take. In that time, the runaway princess Emma, fed up with royal life, found herself in the arms of a newly handless Captain Hook. When the Dark Curse pulls them apart, what will happen?
1. Waking Up

**A/N- I have been thinking about writing a new fic for a little while now, but I really wanted to do something AU, and the ideas were few and far between. This was inspired by the ending of one of my old fics, To Hell and Back. I guess we'll see how it goes. This story is mostly unplanned and won't have a set update schedule, at least in the beginning. Like the show, it will bounce between flashbacks and the present time. Feedback is always welcome. Happy New Years!**

 **-S.**

 **The Enchanted Forest, eleven years ago**

 _The night was still young when the Jolly Roger finally docked in the southern edge of Misthaven. The sun had only just set, and the breeze was not yet cool enough to warrant a shawl. Still, Princess Emma found herself covered in goose bumps. She was nervous, terribly nervous, and that was not an emotion she was very familiar with. Even running away from the castle had not set so many butterflies loose in her stomach._

 _Emma shook her head, her eyes cast down towards the water, watching as tiny waves lapped at the side of the ship. This ship, if not the ocean itself, had become more of a home to her than the palace ever had been. For twenty-one years, she sat in a golden cage, a crown weighing heavily on her head, as maids and servants bowed to her, bending to her every whim._

 _She hated it._

 _All she ever wanted was to be free, to do as she wished. She wanted to travel the world, to meet new people and try new things. She wanted to be in control of her own destiny. It wasn't fair, she'd told her mother once, over a golden platter of roast duck, the likes of which, most people would never see. Her parents had only been royal by birth. Her mother had spent years wandering the forest, on the run from a madwoman, yes, but she had been free. And she had not, by any stretch of the imagination, been a princess. And her father's story was even worse. For a good portion of his life, he had not even been a prince. And even then, it was not by blood. Why should she be stuck with the suffocating dresses, the boring parties, and worst by far, the stuffy princes?_

 _All she wanted was a life that was her own. And she found it in the most unlikely of places._

" _You're cold," a soft voice drifted from behind her. A hand appeared on her right and began rubbing her arm soothingly, as if trying to coax the warmth back into her. Only, she knew that her goose bumps had absolutely nothing to do with the weather. She wasn't about to tell him that though. Not yet. Perhaps tomorrow, if she found herself to be brave enough by then._

" _I'm fine," she assured, turning so that the water was at her back. She was met with deep blue eyes, and concerned little half-frown that tugged uncomfortably at her heart. She didn't want to see him any less than happy. So, she stood up on the tips of her toes, and did the only thing that she knew would put a smile back on his face._

 _She kissed him. It wasn't anything more than a few chaste pecks, but it was enough to wake her up, to leave her wanting more. He groaned against her, letting her know that, yes, he felt the same way. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to go eat something, but now-" he trailed off, following the column of her neck with his lips. "I'm quite tempted to lock us away in our quarters."_

" _Now that you mention it, I am quite hungry," she responded, slinking away from him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Perhaps we could finish this… later?"_

" _You, my lovely wife," he began, following her towards the gangplank, "are a great tease."_

 _She sent him a grin over her shoulder. "Oh Killian, is that not one of the many reasons you love me?"_

 _He laughed, and it was a big, hearty thing that seemed to echo through the night. "Indeed it is."_

 _The pair made their way off of the ship together, finding the tavern that the majority of the crew had settled on with ease. The conversation and laughter of the night was almost enough to make Emma forget the daunting task that lay ahead of her. But, by the time she had refused a third drink, it was impossible to escape the knowledge._

 _She was pregnant._

 _That, in itself was not a cause for alarm, but the circumstances surrounding it were. She was a runaway princess, a princess who, in the eyes of her parents, of her entire kingdom, really, was meant for a prince. And she, adventurous and strong willed as she was, had married a pirate, a pirate she was completely and totally in love with._

 _She fell asleep that night, wrapped in her husband's arms, wondering how in the world she was going to tell Captain Hook that he was going to be a father. It didn't matter though. She would not get the chance._

 _Just outside, an ominous cloud of purple smoke settled over the kingdom, and it would leave no stone unturned._

 **Boston, present day**

Emma Jones woke up the same way she had every day for the past eleven years: alone and terrified (though she'd never admit it). Great beams of light passed through the curtains that lined the right side of the room, and, well, that didn't make any sense at all. The portholes in the Captain's Cabin of the Jolly Roger were far too small to let in _that_ much light.

She cracked one eye open, and then, upon realizing that she didn't know where she was, the other popped open along with it. Multiple things became apparent all at once.

She was no longer on board the Jolly.

She was alone in the bed, which was far more comfortable than hers had been.

She could not feel the gentle rocking of the waves outside.

Something was very, very wrong.

Without thinking too much, because that would lead to dangerous places, surely, she nearly leapt from the bed, and began examining her new surroundings. Along with the bed, she found a nightstand laden with a few books she did not recognize, and an armchair covered in an _extremely_ small dress, a red leather jacket not unlike Killian's, and a pair of high heels. When her exploration of the closet did not lead to any useful information, she pulled on a pair of what seemed to be riding pants, only they were made of a strange material she had never encountered before, and a top that seemed to be made of refined cotton.

She only found three other dresses, none of which were the long, confining things she had been made to wear for pretty much her entire life. This made her rather happy, as she felt she'd dealt with enough of those types of dresses to last her _several_ life times.

Upon further inspection of the house, she discovered another three rooms. Down a hallway not far from the bed chamber, she found a strangely bright, tiled room, which housed so many things, she dare not try to identify them all. From the strange chair like object, to the glass paned cubicle, to the litany of things that lined the counter top, she knew she was outnumbered. Further down the hall, the space opened up into what she assumed were the living quarters, and then, off of that room, there was another with even more odd contraptions that confused her to no end. _How could a fire start in a matter of seconds without flint?_

Eventually, she reached the point where, even if she did not understand it, she knew every area of the house. It all had her quickly moving towards terrified again, for in her search, while she had found numerous interesting treasures, she had yet to find the one thing she was searching for: her husband.

 _Had she been sent into this new world alone?_

 _Would she ever make it out?_

It was this thought that had her walking towards the door. Clearly, nothing in here was going to help her figure things out. Her hand was already on the doorknob when she caught sight of it. The object was small, so small that it hung from the wall on the tiniest of hooks. It had a black base, and a metal, sharp toothed, tip. Whatever it was, she was tempted to reach out and touch it. She never expected what would happen when she did.

A barrage of images flashed through her mind.

 _Being moved from family to family, confused as to why no one wanted her._

 _Crying as yet another nice couple was forced to send her away._

 _Running away from a particularly nasty man who was meant to be her_ father _._

 _Meeting her best friend, only to be abandoned and betrayed by her later._

 _Attempting to steal the large yellow contraption to which this key belonged._

 _Going on adventures with a man named Neal._

 _Being sent away to a terrible prison for a crime she did not commit._

 _Giving up her son._

She gasped, and the keys fell through her shaking fingers with a soft thud. Her hands dropped to her stomach, but of course, it was too early to notice a difference. The other night, after two months without her cycle, and a few weeks of nauseating mornings, she had been absolutely sure that she was with child. But now, now-

There was a knock at the door, breaking her out of her thoughts. At first, she considered ignoring it, hoping that whoever it was would just go away, and let her fall apart in peace. But no, of course not. A few seconds passed, and Emma had had enough. She reached for the door, yanking it open a bit too forcefully. What met her there, on the other side of the door, completely eradicated any anger she'd had before.

"Are you Emma Swan?"

 **A/N- And there you have it, chapter one. I'm going to leave it at T for now, but seeing as there will be many flashbacks, and pirate Hook is a little too irresistible, the rating might go up in the future.**

 **-S.**


	2. The Book

**A/N- I won't really be following any of the original dialogue, except for maybe some of the more iconic lines. I've read other stories that start off on episode one that I find a bit boring because of how utterly canon they are. I promise not to make this an episode by episode rehashing of the show.**

 **-S.**

 _Swan. Swan._ No, she was not Emma Swan, but in this world, so far away from anything she knew or understood, couldn't it be possible? Had she somehow fallen asleep as Emma Jones and woken up as Emma Swan? It was the cruelest form of irony, she thought, if that was indeed the case. In another life, she could imagine herself falling asleep to the sound of that word rolling off of her husband's tongue, smiling to herself at the silly nickname Killian refused to let go of.

 _Swan. I believe that is the perfect thing to call you, so beautiful, majestic and graceful._

 _You dance quite well, Swan._

 _Gods, Swan, that dress…_

 _I love you, Swan._

The boy, who, now that she thought of it, looked quite familiar, knocked on the doorframe, effectively drawing her thoughts back to the present. He was still quite small, ten or eleven, maybe, with dark hair and warm brown eyes. She wasn't sure what to say to him. Did she tell him no, that Swan had never once been her surname? Did say yes because, well, something wasn't right here, and she was in desperate need of some information?

She settled for something else entirely.

"Who wants to know?" She hadn't meant to sound so guarded, but now that it was said, she couldn't exactly take it back. This had to have been some cruel trick. This boy could not possibly have been any more than a stranger, right?

"My name is Henry Mills, and-and Emma Swan is my birth mother." He seemed so small as he said it, as if he was terrified of rejection, of the possibility that he was wrong. Instantly, Emma felt terrible for having put that doubt into his head.

And, after all, had she not just been wondering what had happened to her child? It was possible, given the insane nature of the world she had woken up in, that what he said was true. But, if it was, then-then, her son, her unborn child, was already about a decade old. If it was true, then she had missed out on so very much. And Killian, Gods, he didn't even know that he was father, wherever he was.

It was that last thought that had her opening the door a bit wider, and ushering Henry inside. "Yes, that's me," she said. "Emma… Swan." Except that it wasn't, not truly. She just didn't know how to tell him that.

There was an awkward beat of silence as the young lad stood in her living room, and then, "I really just-I needed to talk to you."

She nodded gently, before moving to the sofa. The gravity of what he had told her made her want to wrap her arms around him and never, ever let go, but she thought that that would be a tad bit overwhelming. She could restrain herself. She was, in fact, very good at having copious amounts of patience.

"Okay then," she said. "I happen to be a pretty good listener."

Henry took a deep breath before dropping his bag to the floor and pulling out a large tome. It was so big that it seemed to dwarf him with its size, but he had no trouble lifting it, and setting it on her coffee table. "This is a book of fairytales," he informed her, "you know, Snow White, Cinderella, Peter Pan."

That last name had her sitting on edge. While it was odd that this boy seemed to know about her parents, about the life she'd run from, she couldn't get over the unease she felt at his name. Killian had once told her all about the monstrous man-child and his hellish island. It was a place she wished she never had the displeasure of going to.

"But," Henry began, almost unsure of how to continue, "They're all real. They live in a town in Maine called Storybrooke."

Emma's heart leapt at the information. Perhaps she was not as alone as she thought she was. Perhaps Killian had somehow found his way into this town as well. "Really?" she asked finally, a little too much hope in her voice.

"Yeah, the only problem is, they don't remember." His voice had grown meek by the end of his statement, and Emma could understand why. In her muddled… fake memories, or whatever they were, the stories of the people from her world were just that: stories. They all had nice, happy endings, and only seemed to exist for the sake of spreading happiness and hope, something her mother would have approved of. She wondered if he thought that she wouldn't believe him.

"So what," Emma said slowly, afraid to let herself get too excited over this new information, "you want me to help them remember?"

Instead of answering her, Henry flipped the book open and thumbed through a few of the pages. When he reached the one he wanted, he wasted no time flipping the book around so that she could see it. On the page in front of her, was a drawing of a small baby wrapped up snuggly in her own baby blanket. The image made her heart clench. Even after running away, she was unable to part with it. It was probably still on board the Jolly Roger, wherever she was.

"That's you," Henry informed her, sill sounding meek. "You're the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming; the Savior." The first half of that was, of course, not news to her, but the second part, the _Savior_ part, was surprising.

"What do you mean, Savior?" Emma asked, slightly afraid of the answer. She had escaped the castle, she had made a life for herself, and it was all for the sake of being able to decide, to _choose_ who she was going to be. She couldn't possibly let some book tell her who she was.

Henry flipped back a few pages, settling on a drawing of what appeared to be her parents' wedding. She had heard the tale, hell _everyone_ had heard the tale. The Evil Queen had interrupted her parents' wedding to scare everyone and make a few terrible threats, but that was all that they were. After being married, her parents wasted no time hunting down the queen and banishing her from the kingdom.

"The Evil Queen threatened to take everyone's happy endings away," Henry reminded her. "And that's what this curse is. It makes everyone forget who they are, and the life they're supposed to have. They're all living a bunch of lies. The Savior is supposed to be the hero of the story; she's supposed to bring all of the happy endings back."

"And, you think _I'm_ the Savior?"

He looked a bit wounded by her tone. "Well," he began, "I know that it sounds kind of crazy, but yeah, that's what I think."

Emma just couldn't continue to let Henry think that she didn't believe him. She scooted to the extreme edge of the sofa, and met his eyes over the coffee table. "Do you know what's crazy, lad? None of this makes any sense. This morning, I woke up in a strange land, full of odd magical devices, the likes of which I've never seen before, and the one person who seems to make any sense, thinks he sounds crazy."

Henry was silent for a moment, likely letting her words sink in. "Wait, you remember?" Just like herself, he could not seem to keep the excitement from his voice.

"The only thing I _don't_ remember is how I got here."

He looked a bit confused at her response. "But-but you were just a baby. How can you remember anything?"

Now Emma was confused. The curse had been cast when she was twenty-eight years old, seven years after she had run away, and four after she had met Killian. Of course she remembered. "I think, perhaps, your book isn't very accurate. Tell me: is there anything else about me in there?"

Henry shook his head. "No. It goes straight from the day you were born, to when the curse was cast."

"Well, I can assure you," Emma told him, falling back into the couch unceremoniously, "There's far more to the story than that. But, I'm a bit more interested in this, this _Storybrooke_. Is everyone from this book in the town?" She shouldn't hope, shouldn't set herself up for disappointment, but she just couldn't help herself. She had her son, and now, only one thing was missing.

"Yeah. As far as I know, the curse only affected the Enchanted Forest. So everyone in the town is from the book, but not everyone from the book is in the town."

At first, the information struck up fear within her heart. That meant it was possible that Killian would not be there. _But,_ Emma thought to herself, _the last thing I remember is that we were together. If I made it here, and Henry made it here, then-_

"I suppose that means that we should take our leave, then."

Henry smiled broadly before shoving his book back into his bag and heading for the door. Emma wondered if she should bring anything on this journey, but still, almost nothing in this house mad even the tiniest bit of sense to her, so there wasn't a point. She grinned back at Henry, and moved towards the door, towards a new adventure, and hopefully, some answers.


	3. The Queendom of Storybrooke

**A/N- I'm sorry that it's been so long, but I was waiting for better inspiration. I do not want to put myself on a schedule, and end up rushing and posting weak chapters. Secondly, I have just posted a poll pertaining to the ending of this story on my profile. Do check it out, if you have the time.**

 **-S.**

Emma was pleasantly surprised at how easy sailing up the highway in her yellow monstrosity was. She'd had her reservations at first- she could sail a ship, sure, but captain this foreign rust bucket? She was less than confident. Somehow, whatever magic had brought her there, had tried to brainwash her with fake memories, it had also given her knowledge enough to drive like a pro.

One less problem to worry about, ninety-nine to go.

She and Henry passed the time with even more conversation. He sat in the passenger seat with a map she didn't remember owning on his lap, yelling out directions as they became necessary. In between random hollers of " _Turn left up here!_ " and " _That one is_ definitely _the off ramp!_ " they traded easy stories, both trying to soak up as much of the other's world as possible.

"I don't understand how these things are safe in the slightest!" she'd exclaimed once they'd merged onto the freeway.

"It's just a car," Henry had said, shrugging off her fear absently. "Everyone has them."

"Do _you_ have one?" she questioned, slightly terrified of the answer. She did not remember ever seeing a child behind the wheel of one of these things in her other memories. Still, she wouldn't rule anything out in this strange realm.

Henry laughed at her question, the sound of it, infectious and boisterous; as if that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever been asked. "Of course not, I'm a kid!"

"So you are," Emma muttered to herself, watching the flow of traffic around her. The shock of this new world and her place in it had still not worn off. Her son, who just yesterday was an unborn miracle, now sat beside her, already eleven years old. Oh, what she wouldn't give to turn back the clock.

"You're sad," he said, after a moment, catching on to her downturned mood.

His words alerted her to the moisture gathering at her eyelids. She blinked furiously, keeping her eyes on the road, and chided herself internally. _Don't cry. Don't cry. Pirates don't cry._

"I'm fine, Lad. I promise." She took a moment to think, wracking her brain for a new topic of conversation. "Tell me more about Storybrooke. I'm going to need to be prepared."

For the next few hours, Henry told Emma everything he knew about Storybrooke, and about the curse. He told her that everyone had new names; that Mary Margaret, her mother, was his school teacher, and that her father was in a coma. He told her that the curse was meant to be unbreakable, because, according to his book, True Love's Kiss was the only thing strong enough to break it, but, as her parent's had discovered long ago, memory curses could not be broken by True Love's Kiss.

That was why he needed the Savior, he'd said, because even in a land without magic, she was still the embodiment of True Love. Emma wasn't so sure that she believed that, but she was willing to try. If she ever wanted her life to go back to the way it was, then she was going to have to do _something_.

 **XxxXxxX**

Regina Mills nearly had a heart attack when she'd woken up that morning. Henry was gone, completely and utterly _gone_. She'd spent the wee hours of the morning checking every little nook and cranny of their house before giving up and brewing a locator potion. It wasn't easy, given the lack of magic in the town, but Rumple had made sure that there was just enough for the two of them and their tricks.

Sometime after eight o'clock, in the safety of her room, she doused the potion on one of Henry's sweatshirts, and waited. It had only taken a moment for the garment to rise, weakly, from the bed on which she had placed it, and follow a lazy path in the open air of the room. It had taken even less time for the thing to drop to the floor indecisively.

The sight of the limp fabric had her heart dropping to her toes painfully, and in that instant, she was _done_ playing games. There were only two things that that could mean: either he was not in Storybrooke any longer, or- or the Queen would come out to _play_. With a flick of her wrist, she disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke, only to reappear seconds later in the show room of one very depressing pawn shop.

She took a breath, letting the feeling of so many magical objects wash over her. The atmosphere in here made the rest of the town feel extraordinarily suffocating. The room was empty, except of course, for hundreds of magical knickknacks and stolen treasures covered in dust. "Isn't somebody supposed to be waiting for me at the front desk?" she asked an ancient looking bookshelf.

"Isn't it a little early for a visit, Your Majesty?"

Regina spun at the sound of the voice, ginning darkly at the older man. He really ought not to be so cocky with limited magic and a bad limp. One might actually mistake him for a feeble old man. "My town, my rules," Regina informed him, holding out her empty palm. For a short moment, the Dark One wondered if he was missing something, if she had requested something he had forgotten about. A second, and another puff of smoke later, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the very old, very powerful dagger.

"Henry is missing," she informed him. "I tried a locator spell, and it failed." She took a few steps towards him, dagger still raised and at the ready. Only when it rested at the column of his neck did she stop. "You will find him, or you will _pay_."

 **XxxXxxX**

Hours later, the bright yellow car sped into town. Emma breathed a sigh of relief, feeling instantly better just knowing that this place, this magical little town, if Henry was to be believed, was real. He told her that she should let him out on the sidewalk of Main Street, saying that he could walk the rest of the way. He said that she could stay at Granny's Bed and Breakfast while she was in town, (she was curious to see if this Granny was indeed her Aunt Red's granny, someone who had become part of her family long ago) and that she probably shouldn't meet his mom quite yet.

"Your m-" Emma started to ask, but cut herself off after realizing just what she would be admitting by saying it. She was his mother, his _only_ mother. "Who is _she_?" she asked instead, anxious to see just what she was getting herself into.

There was a pause, and then, "The Evil Queen."

Emma's only response was to ask him where she lived.

She could feel something, magic maybe, prickle at her skin as they approached the castle. Yes, they may have been in a new realm, a realm in which castles were not nearly as common, but that was the only way she could think to describe it. The _house_ , if you could call it that, sat on two levels, a balcony and columned entrance adorning the front. It was pained a bright white and had wide, shuttered windows lining both stories. A house fit for a queen.

Before they'd even had a chance to take two steps up the front walk, the front door swung open, and the queen herself emerged. She looked different here, far less dramatic, but no less dangerous. Her dark eyes shot daggers at Emma before she caught sight of Henry beside her.

"Henry," she sighed, her entire face melting. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" She approached them as quickly as she could in her ridiculously high heels, and wrapped Henry in a tight hug. Instantly, Emma was feeling jealous and territorial.

"I know, Mom," he returned when she finally, _finally_ let go of him. "I'm sorry. I just- I had to." He didn't tell Regina just _why_ he had to, that he had found the one person capable of breaking her curse, the curse she was busy trying to convince him wasn't real.

She knew anyway. Regina's eyes lifted back up to settle on Emma over Henry's shoulder. The anger bubbled up inside of her, moments away from exploding. She couldn't though, not here, not now. Still, she wasted absolutely no time telling this newcomer exactly what was on her mind. " _You stay the hell away from my son_."

Emma's hand unconsciously reached for the cutlass that was no longer at her hip. "Listen, _witch_ -"

Regina's eyes got impossibly wide at that. It was almost funny, to see the Evil Queen taken by surprise in such a way. The reaction told Emma all that she needed to know. Regina had had no idea whose son she had stolen. Up until two seconds ago, Henry could have belonged to anyone. Not anymore.

An image appeared in Regina's mind, of a little girl with golden hair and emeralds for eyes. A little girl, with a tiny bejeweled crown on her head. Now, it had become abundantly clear to her that she may have made a small mistake. Not Henry. No, never Henry, but, of all the children, in the entire world, she had to pick _Snow White's grandson_.

"Get off of my property, _princess_ ," she said the title with just as much venom as Emma had, "or I promise you, you'll never leave it again."


	4. A Smidgen of Hope

**Somewhere off the coast of Arendelle, thirteen years ago**

" _Come on, Love!" Killian sang as he jumped backwards, much lighter on his feet than Emma would have guessed he was capable of. "Surely you can do better than that."_

 _Emma huffed out a breath and raised the cutlass once again. Her tired muscles screamed in protest, but she ignored them, too proud to give up. She stalked right up to him and tried again, this time with a jab to his left side which he'd left unguarded. He was far too quick for her though, catching the end of her cutlass with his hook, and throwing it across the deck. Before she had the chance to react, his own blade was pressed to her chest._

" _This is useless," she sighed as he withdrew his weapon. "I'll never actually beat you." Emma always thought that it was sort of backwards for her parents, the legendary Snow White and Prince Charming, to deny her lessons in swordsmanship and archery, the very things that had kept their kingdom safe for so long. No, instead of training with her father or a few of the castle guards, she spent her time reading very large, very boring books, or practicing proper etiquette._

 _And as such, she had absolutely no chance of beating Captain Hook in a sword fight._

" _And that, my dear," he began as he bent down to retrieve her weapon, (he'd had it engraved with a small swan near the hilt, to which she replied by stealing his to be engraved with his initials) "is exactly why you won't." He studied the finely crafted blade in his hand for a moment before swiping the air a few times. "Confidence is key. You must be sure and strong in your movements." He stepped behind her and placed the cutlass in her hand, guiding her arm through a few basic moves. "Don't question yourself. Whatever you choose to do, follow through with it."_

 _Killian helped her sheath the cutlass before Emma turned to face him, a small frown on her lips. "Oh, is_ that _all?"_

 _She could tell that he was biting back a laugh, and it left her feeling angry and inadequate. "Well," he said, leading her a few paces to the right, the exact spot where he had jumped away from her blade. "It also helps to pay a bit more attention to your surroundings." She quirked a brow at that, not quite sure what he meant. His only response was to step quite deliberately onto a specific board, and watch the end of it shoot up into the air._

 _How had she not remembered that? More often than not, she and the crew took turns tripping over that one lose board, cursing their stubbed toes or twisted ankles before moving on to finish whatever they were doing. At one point she remembered telling Killian, in the heat of anger, that it was the bane of her existence._

" _You were hoping I'd hit you with the loose board?" She asked incredulously. They were only practicing after all. She didn't want to hurt him._

" _I was hoping you'd see that fighting isn't all about the weapons you use or the power of your attack. Sometimes, it's just about paying attention."_

 **Storybrooke, present day**

Emma took in the sight before her, the Evil Queen, with her sharp angry eyes and fingertips glowing with deadly magic. She stood in front of Henry, as if she didn't even want Emma laying eyes on him. The message was clear, and seeing as Emma didn't have an arsenal of magic up her sleeve, she backed off, choosing to save this fight for another day.

Maybe, she thought, remembering a conversation with her pirate, maybe she wouldn't need magic at all. Maybe she just needed a plan, something better than showing up on her doorstep with some angry words. She left the house with a promise that this was not over, that it wouldn't be until she had her son back.

Emma had planned to heed Henry's advice and head over to Granny's bed and breakfast. After all, not only did she need a place to stay, but she also wanted to see if she could find her aunt Red. She'd always been a gossip, informing Emma about the goings on in the kingdom every time her mother had been out of earshot. If, by some stroke of luck, this trait had carried over with the curse, Red might prove to be very useful.

Of course, the key word there was _planned._ She didn't actually get that far, stopping her magic yellow box beside a sign that read _Storybrooke Harbor._ It wasn't the sign, or even the harbor itself that gave her pause, as she knew from Henry's map that Storybrooke sat on the coast. No, it was what sat bobbing in the harbor that had her heart pounding in her chest. _The Jolly Roger._

She could not get to her fast enough.

The moment she set foot on the gangplank, an overwhelming feeling of peace and comfort surrounded her. She was home, well and truly home. That was the beauty of living on a ship: you never have to leave it behind, and so, you were always home. Her hair whipped around her face in the midday breeze and her hands shook as she explored the deck. Nothing seemed different, save her emptiness.

The ship was utterly deserted, and that made Emma's stomach twist uncomfortably. A grand ship like this one was not meant to be so still, so quiet. Where was her crew? And the most important question in Emma's mind: Where was her captain?

Without taking the time to explore the rest of the ship, she made her way down to the captain's quarters, desperate for answers the deck was not providing. She wasn't sure what shocked her more: that the cabin was just as empty as the rest of the ship, or that the room looked so ordinary, so lived in, that she could imagine Killian lying on the bed. The fact that he was not there made the _Jolly_ feel like a ghost ship.

The bed was made neatly, just the way that Killian liked it. The bookshelf was straight an orderly. There was a book, some paper, and an ink well open on the ornate wooden desk. Behind them, sat a few rolled up maps, perfectly drawn by a steady professional hand, Killian's, to be precise. His long leather duster hung over the back of the chair, the way he left it most nights.

"Killian?" she called with a shaky voice. She was being stupid, and she knew it. Even if he were here, which he obviously wasn't, according to Henry, his name wasn't even Killian anymore. That thought, the thought of him not being himself, not being her husband, sent a shiver rolling down her spine, and she fled from the ship without waiting for a reply.

After her failure to do anything useful on board the ship, Emma made quick work of driving to Grannies. She needed answers, and she needed them now.

The diner was almost empty when she arrived, for which she was glad. She couldn't afford to let anything she did or said get back to the queen. Red was waiting just inside the restaurant, at a little podium covered in menus. She smiled at Emma, her blood red lips stretching wide.

"Hi! Would you like a table?" Yes, just as bubbly as always.

Emma nodded and allowed Red to lead her to a table near the back of the dining area.

"You're new around here, aren't you?" Red asked, allowing Emma to slide into a booth.

For a second, Emma just sat there, pondering the best way to respond. After a moment, she settled on, "Yeah, just exploring the place a bit. I think I might choose to stay for a while."

"Well, I'm sure you'll like it," Red replied, handing her the menu. "This place sure has a lot of charm. The name's Ruby, by the way. I'll leave you to look over the menu." Emma was about to let her go, for the sake of trying to work through just what had happened today, when she realized that this was her chance.

"Hey, wait," she said, catching _Ruby's_ attention. She had a feeling that all of these name changes were going to get confusing. "Speaking of town charm," Emma began, not quite sure of how to broach her question. "What can you tell me about that ship-the really old looking one in the harbor?"

Ruby gave her a look, as if she was surprised by the question. "Oh, that old thing? I don't-I don't know. It's just always sort of, been there, you know?"

Henry was right about the memory loss then. No one but she and the queen seemed to know what was going on. "Well," she began, nearly holding her breath. "Do you know who owns it? Just out of curiosity. I'm really into sailing."

Ruby thought for a moment. "Huh. I don't know. You might want to ask Mr. Gold. I've seen him on board a couple of times. He owns the pawn shop right down the street. I've got to warn you though, he's pretty scary."

She left after that, to let Emma read the menu, but the only thing she could think about was this Mr. Gold. If she let herself hope, _a lot_ , then perhaps Mr. Gold was really Killian. If she was being rational though, nothing was ever that simple. He was probably just a member of the crew. Still, curiosity got the better of her, and she used her talking device to send a message to Henry. After telling him that she knew some things, like how to drive thanks to her cursed memories, but that she'd missed many of the details, Henry wasted no time showing her everything else he could think of. At the moment, she was infinitely grateful for this little device.

 _Who's Mr. Gold?_ She questioned, hoping that he was able to reply before she lost her mind.

A few minutes later, after Ruby had returned to take her order, and she'd randomly chosen and grilled cheese sandwich with a side of onion rings (whatever those were) Henry replied.

 _He's Rumplestiltskin. He helped my mom cast the curse. You might want to stay away from him. Also, I'm pretty sure that he remembers too._

It took all of Emma's restraint to sit still and eat her food, when every fiber of her being wanted to march down the street and confront Killian's crocodile. She'd waited a long time for the chance. After hearing the story, Emma had wanted nothing more than to hunt down the monster, to cut off _his_ hand, or maybe his head.

When she was finished eating, and had paid for her meal with money she wasn't sure how she'd acquired, she left the diner in a hurry. Forget about _paying attention,_ and _using your brain more than your sword._ This was too important.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, that she hadn't even gotten to the street corner before running into a stranger.

"Whoa, Love," came a familiar voice. A hand, a _very_ familiar hand, wrapped around her arm in an attempt to steady her. When she looked up, she was met with deep blue eyes she'd been half convinced she'd never see again. "What's got you in such a hurry?"

 **A/N- Sorry for the long wait, but hopefully Killian's appearance makes up for it. I have a poll pertaining to the ending of this story on my profile. If you have the time, please do cast your votes.**

 **-S.**


	5. The Colin Problem

**A/N- I'd just like to remind you, and inform any newcomers of the poll on my profile. I have a few ideas about the ending of this story, but nothing concrete. Any feedback you have is greatly appreciated. And yes, his name is Colin. Not very pirate-y, I know. I couldn't really think of anything better. I decided to keep the last name though.**

 **-S.**

Emma had never been one for clichés, and yet, at the sight of Killian alive and unharmed in front of her, she felt the stopping of time. His hand was still wrapped around her bicep, and _my gods,_ she felt as if the world had somehow fallen back into order. Maybe she still had a psychopathic evil queen to deal with, and maybe she was trapped in another realm, but in that moment, she could not force herself to care.

"Lass? Are you alright?" So she had been staring. Could she really be blamed?

Shaking her head to clear it of her thoughts, she replied. "Oh, I'm-I'm fine. Absolutely fine." Since when had she ever let a man fluster her so? _Since she thought said man, her husband, may or may not have been stuck in another realm. Or worse._ She shuddered, pushing that thought from her mind quite forcefully.

"Are you sure? You seem a bit… shaken."

Well, of-bloody-fucking-course she was shaken. She had spent the entire day-eleven years, actually-bouncing between hope and dread. And now that she knew that the Dark One was here, she felt as though nowhere in this entire town was safe. "You, uh, you look familiar, that's all."

He gave her an odd look. "Can't say I've hear that one before. Just who are you, Lass? I've yet to see you around town, and, well we don't get many visitors." He paused and scratched behind his ear, almost, nervously. "Or, any visitors at all, really."

"Emma. Emma… Swan." She had to bite her tongue to keep from ruining everything, to keep from telling him that her name was Emma Jones, and that she loved him, and missed him; that he was her husband and she _needed_ him to remember her. This was harder than she had anticipated.

He smiled and reached for her hand. Emma only briefly noticed that he was wearing some sort of stiff, false hand in place of his hook. Instead of shaking her hand, as Emma's fake memories had told her was a common greeting in this land, he pressed his lips to her knuckles in a very familiar, comforting way. Maybe Killian wasn't _all_ gone.

"Jones," he said, and Emma's heart fluttered. Maybe this would be easier than she thought "Colin Jones."

Two very conflicting emotions hit her at once, and she wasn't sure which one to focus on. On the one hand, she couldn't stop the swell of joy that welled up inside of her at the sound of his name, _their_ name. On the other hand, _what kind of self respecting pirate calls himself Colin?_ It didn't exactly strike fear into the hearts of people the way _Hook_ or even _Killian_ did.

After a moment of silence, she tried to respond, but her voice was conveniently absent. She tried again, barking out a slight cough before, "It's nice to meet you." _Really, Emma?_ She thought to herself. _This is your husband, the love of your life, and that's all you've got?_

"Aye," he chuckled. "Though, perhaps next time we meet, I won't nearly knock you to the ground. That's quite bad form, you know."

Emma's heart clenched again, and she knew that if she didn't take her leave soon, she'd end up doing something she may come to regret. She could see the sign for Granny's Bed and Breakfast behind him, and decided that she'd need to stop by for a room anyway. Killian was okay, and that was what really mattered to her. Skinning a crocodile could wait.

"How do you know there will be a next time?" she asked coyly, trying to hide the fact that she desperately needed there to be. She just wanted her life to go back to the way that it was. Baby steps.

The tips of his ears turned pink, and his eyes drifted away from hers. Well _that_ was different. "I suppose it was more of a hope than anything else. Forgive me for being so bold, but you are quite… lovely." When his eyes turned back to hers, they were deep, searching, and almost afraid. She wondered what had happened here to make him so different. Where was her bold and fiery pirate captain?

A voice in the back of her head told her that she had work to do, a curse to break. She didn't have the time, or, if she was being honest with herself, the willpower, to continue this conversation. Every time he opened his mouth, she could think of little more than kissing him. _Later. Once the curse is broken. Later._

"I guess we'll see," she said, moving to step around him. "I'll try to run into you later."

He laughed, and she took the opportunity to slip into the Bed and Breakfast.

Granny was behind the counter this time, typing away at the magical box that Henry had informed her was called a _computer_. She looked up when the bell above their heads jingled, a smile on her face. "Oh, hello dear. What can I do for you?"

 _Hug me like you did was I was little. Send me home. Remember._

Emma rolled her eyes at her inner monologue as she approached the desk. What kind of pirate was she? Yes, course she wanted to go home, but she'd built a rather thick, impenetrable wall around that corner of her heart for a reason. She loved her family and missed them greatly, but royal life was not for her.

"I'm just looking for a room," Emma explained, with a gentle smile, trying to forget about her train of thought.

Granny asked for specifics about the room size and floor level a bit too excitedly. Only then did it occur to her that she was probably the inn's only customer. Just as everyone seemed to remind her, Storybrooke never had any visitors. In fact, she was probably the first one. Ever. Deciding to play on that, Emma requested a room with a view. Granny was all too happy to hand over the key to a room on the third floor, which supposedly had an "amazing" view of Main Street and the clock tower.

There was no need to explain that she preferred the sight of the sun set over the open ocean.

Once in her room, Emma huffed out a sigh, locking the door and flinging open the window. A part of her knew that it had been an eventful day, and that the world was not going to end if she took some time for herself. The other part of her was already busy planning. It was hard to put this curse business into perspective when her husband didn't remember her, and her son was somehow even years old. She needed to focus without thinking about all that she had lost.

How was she supposed to break a curse without the possibility of a True Love's Kiss?

Henry was convinced that she was the _Savior_ , that she was made of True Love and magic. He thought she was the only one who could possibly save the town. But, how could she? Her own husband didn't remember her, and her father was in a coma, so kisses were out. According to Henry, being made of True Love, which was the most powerful magic, also gave Emma said magic. But-

She snapped her fingers. Nothing.

Thought of her parents together and happy. Nope.

Pointed to a painting on the wall across from her. It didn't so much as twitch.

Glared at the ring on her third finger. It did not bring her husband back to her.

She gave up.


	6. Second Chances

**A/N- Sorry for the wait. I've had a lot on my plate recently. Poll's still up if you want to leave your input. Reviews work too, if you are so inclined.**

 **-S.**

Emma stirred her hot chocolate slowly, watching as the plumes of steam rose up into the air. Even the delicious drink, which had quickly become her favorite, could not calm her. It had been _days_. She didn't know how anyone in this bloody town could do it-could stay one place like this, never questioning why they didn't leave. Even Killian, whose veins ran with sea water, had not dared to sail away.

Or maybe, that was the problem: they didn't think they had a reason to.

If the citizens of Storybrooke knew who was leading them, knew that the Evil Queen was their mayor, and that the Dark One practically owned the town, they would surely revolt. But they didn't know. They thought their mayor was merely frightening, just someone to avoid. Then again, it wouldn't do them any good to know the truth if they were still trapped in their cursed personas, now would it? She doubted a school teacher had any hope of wielding a bow and arrow.

The bell above the door chimed, pulling Emma's eyes up towards the front of the restaurant. There was a reason she had stopped by every morning for breakfast, and it had nothing to do with the lack of eateries in town. Killian swept into the diner like he owned the place, whispered a few short words to Granny, who happened to be manning the hostess' podium today, and waited patiently for his order. It took Granny only a moment to retrieve it, leading Emma to assume that it was the same every day, and then he left.

Or rather, that was how it had gone every day for almost a week. Today, however, was different. Today, Killian's eyes snagged on her, and it was only a moment before he was sliding into the booth across from her.

"Are you following me?" he asked her in a low, sultry voice. She knew he wasn't angry by the way his eyes lit up at the question.

"You do know that this happens to be the only decently priced restaurant in this entire town?" Emma replied, thinking of the classy little bistro she'd discovered a few days prior. Even if she had that kind of money, food like that only brought up bad memories.

"Too true, Lass. Still, the fact that we're in here at the same time every morning-" He trailed off, knowing by the way her eyes widened comically, that she'd caught his meaning. So what if she knew that his regular order was a blueberry bagel with cream cheese, and a large black coffee? She was only being observant, not pathetic.

"Fine," she responded. "Think what you want."

"I don't think you know what you just agreed to." Killian shot back, his mind suddenly racing with thoughts of her. It wasn't exactly a new occurrence, but still, it left him confused. Who was this woman, and why could he not get her out of his head? He knew almost nothing about her, and yet-

Yet, he felt like he did. Or he wanted to, at least.

He hadn't felt this way in years. Not since-since _her_. Well, that, he knew, was dangerous, possibly deadly territory, and so he did his best to push those thoughts from his head. Not here, not in public, and certainly not in the presence of such a lovely lass. He could wait to fall apart when he was alone, and had his rum for company, surely.

"Oh," Emma began, daring herself to take that first step. They hadn't spoken since her first day in town, and ever since that conversation, Emma had been mentally hitting herself, wondering why she had not pushed things further. She had to get him to remember. She just had to. "And what exactly do you want, Colin?" She bit back a wince at his new name, which she kind of _hated_ , but she had a feeling that he'd get suspicious if she never used it.

He gulped, suddenly feeling like he was being torn in half. He'd made a vow to himself, years ago, when he couldn't quite find a reason to get out of bed, that he'd never let himself love again. It only ever led to pain and heartbreak. And yet, looking at this woman now, _Emma_ , something in his heart told him that if he didn't do something now, he'd regret it for the rest of his days. She was important. He wasn't quite sure how he knew it, but he did.

"Would you, maybe, want to go to dinner with me? I mean, I know we don't really know each other at all, but I just can't stop thinking about you and-bloody hell, that came out wrong, didn't it? I don't know what I'm doing." His hand reached up to scratch behind his ear, before he dropped it and his gaze to his lap. Emma watched as he fiddled with his prosthetic hand, doing all that he could, it seemed, to keep from looking at her.

She wanted to scream, to break this curse, and lock the queen away for good, to cut the Crocodile into tiny little pieces. They'd succeeded in ruining everything, hadn't they? Her parents were separated, she'd missed every moment of her son's life, and now her husband was an entirely different man from the one she knew. If she didn't know any better, she'd think the queen's plan was meant for her entirely.

How much could her mother be suffering, after all, if she didn't ever remember everything she'd lost?

That was the true curse, wasn't it? To know, and to not be able to do anything about it. Except, maybe, she thought, noting the fact that Killian still refused to look at her, maybe she could do something about it. True Love was the most powerful magic of all, right? And that was her; that made _her_ powerful. She could do this. "Of course I'll go out with you."

His answering grin was enough to make her believe that maybe she had a chance.

Before anything else could be said, the bell above the door chimed again, and this time, Henry entered the room, clad in a heavy coat and a backpack. "Emma," he called, approaching the table, "sorry we haven't been able to talk or anything. My mom's been really strict lately." And there was another thing she hated. Why was the queen _mom_ , and she, just _Emma_? It wasn't fair in the least.

Of course, she could never blame Henry for such a thing, but it still hurt.

"It's alright," she replied, even though it really wasn't, but Henry seemed to take the words at face value before slipping into the booth beside her. It was silent for one tense, awkward moment before, "Henry, this is Colin. We met the day I arrived in town." Well, she was going to have to start somewhere, even if she wanted that somewhere to be _"This is your father."_ Baby steps.

Henry eyed him suspiciously for a moment before offering a muffled greeting, and turning to look at Emma again. She'd have to ask him about that later. "I wanted to ask if you wanted to walk me to school. We could talk about…" he paused for a moment to shoot another suspicious glance in Killian's direction, before continuing. "Operation Cobra." Emma fought the urge to chuckle at the silly name Henry had invented for their mission. _"To stop my mom from finding out,"_ he'd said. It was strange, at yet, she quite liked the sound of it.

Emma nodded and shrugged on her leather jacket before looking back towards Killian. "I'll see you Friday at seven?"

He thought for a moment, almost, caught off guard by the question. "Aye. I'll meet you outside of the Bed and Breakfast?"

She grinned and agreed before leading Henry outside.

They hadn't even reached the street corner when he asked, "Was that my dad?"

Emma's steps faltered. This wasn't exactly the time or place for this conversation, and yet, it didn't look like she would be able to brush it off this time.

"Why would ask that?" she tried anyway. Was it too much to ask to get a few moments alone to process what just happened before being interrogated? Still, he had a right to know. And besides, it wasn't his fault she felt so stressed and tired.

Henry rolled his eyes at the question. "Uh, you're going on a date with him?"

They walked in silence for a few moments as Emma thought of just how to respond. Finally, she settled on a simple, "Yes. He is your father."

She thought perhaps, that their walk would grow tense with the knowledge, but Henry never missed a beat. "Do you think that if you could get him to fall in love with you, you guys could break the curse?"

Emma didn't say anything for a long moment. The truth was that she wasn't sure. Maybe Henry and his book were right about her being the savior, about her having magic because she was made of true love but that didn't mean she'd found it. That was one of the reason's she'd run away in the first place: she was caught between true love and alliance. Her parents needed to build a strong alliance with another kingdom in order to help protect Misthaven from the threat of the queen, but at the same time, they were the greatest true love story ever told. They were hoping she'd somehow find her true love in a powerful prince or king. And if she didn't, she'd have to give up on the notion of true love altogether.

And then, there was Killian. Yes, she loved him, but that may not have been enough. She knew the story of Milah, of how in love they'd been. Of how he'd vowed to avenge her by any means necessary. How he'd spent a few years on that dastardly island in hopes of matching the Dark One's immortality. But she also knew that it had only taken a few weeks with her to sway him. He'd only intended to stay in Misthaven long enough to restock the Jolly Roger before pilfering another magic bean and returning to Neverland, but she stopped him, somehow. They started talking, and, and suddenly, things were different.

Still, just because she was enough to pull him from his revenge, didn't mean what they had was true love.

"I don't know, Lad. I don't know."

Snow White, or rather, Mary Margaret Blanchard, was standing in front of the school, greeting students when they arrived. The sight of her had Emma's pulse racing. She hadn't seen her mother in seven years (and then some, thanks to the curse), and yet, aside from a few new wrinkles, and a new, short hair cut, she hadn't changed at all.

Henry, sensing her apprehension, had run ahead to introduce the two of them. She thought she'd be used to acting like she didn't know anyone by that point, after running into Ruby and Granny and Killian, but nothing prepared her for her mother. It was like the last seven years had never happened, and she was just twenty-one years old again, left with huge shoes to fill and no idea how to do it.

"Miss Blanchard," Henry was saying when she caught up with him, "this is my birth mom, Emma Swan."

Her mother turned to smile warmly at her, and it was worlds away from the reaction she thought she'd get upon returning home. Years ago, before she'd met Killian and truly found her place in the world, the lonely days and even lonelier nights had brought with them thoughts of going home to that great big castle and subsequently, admitting that she was wrong. She'd always imagined a firm scolding, and then crying, lots of crying, not the friendly smile she received now.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Swan," her mother greeted, making her heart clench painfully in her chest. How much pain had she really caused her parents when she left? How much had her bold and immature choice really cost them?

"Uh, you too," she responded dumbly not sure what else to say.

It was at that point when Henry skittered into the school under the pretense of needing to help his friend with some homework.

And then there were two.

"Did he show you the book?" she questioned, a strange look on her face. Well, her mother had never been one to beat around the bush, so to speak.

Emma nodded, not quite trusting her voice.

"I didn't think it would have such an effect on him," Mary Margaret confessed guiltily. "It's just, well, he doesn't have a lot of friends, and I thought he could use something to believe in."

That familiar hope bubbled up in her mother's warm eyes, and while a part of Emma was surprised, the other, she thought, should have seen it coming. The chance to break the curse hinged on Emma's arrival in Storybrooke, and in a way, it made sense that her mother was the one to set it in motion. She bit down the need to explain exactly what was going on in favor of something that sounded a bit less ridiculous.

"Kids have wild imaginations."

"Well, yeah, but, I feel like he's taken it too far. Did you know his mother-" she broke off with a surprised look on her face. Her eyes darted around Emma's face for a moment, an apology clearly displayed in her gaze. "I-I mean the mayor has him in therapy? He really thinks that everyone in town is a fairytale character from that book."

Emma beat down the anger that arose at her words. Nothing was going to move forward if she spent all of her time imagining ways to murder the queen. "Really?" she asked instead. "So who does he think you are?"

Mary Margaret blushed and said in a small voice, "Snow White." She paused for a second before continuing. "And, there's this man in the hospital where I volunteer sometimes. He's been stuck in a coma for, well, forever almost. Henry thinks he's my Prince Charming and that I can somehow wake him up. I really don't know what to do about it."

An idea sprung up in Emma's mind, so bold and crazy, it had a chance of actually working.

"Maybe you should try to wake him up," she suggested. "You know, read him the book, or, or kiss him on the cheek or something."

Mary Margaret's eyebrows rose so high that they almost completely disappeared into her bangs. _"What?"_

"Well, think about it," Emma said, suddenly desperate to sound less like a lunatic. "If you try to wake him up and it doesn't work, maybe, maybe Henry will see that they really are just stories. Maybe it will help him move on from the book, you know?" _Or, maybe it'll work and you'll remember._

Mary Margaret calmed down a bit at that, and she thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, yeah, maybe you're right. It's something to think about anyway." After a moment, her eyes roved down to her watch. "I've got to go. The bell is about to ring. Maybe we can talk later?"

"Yeah, okay," Emma responded, and then Mary Margaret turned away from her, dashing up the front steps of the school.


	7. The Savior and Her Pirate

**A/N- Sorry it's been a while, but things have been a little stressful as of late, and I have been spending quite a bit of time on my novel. I have big plans for the next few chapters, so hopefully, they will be worth the wait. Please check out the poll if you are so inclined.**

 **-S.**

Muted moonlight bounced off of the water as the couple strolled down the docks, arm in arm. The setting had both surprised Emma, and been a comfort to her. Maybe her pirate was missing, but Colin, this new version of him, wasn't quite as different as she'd originally thought. He was still the perfect gentleman. He still treated her like the princess he didn't know she was.

And, somewhere deep down, she had to believe that he still knew her, still loved her.

"There's something about the sea that just… calls to me. Still, even after living here for, well, forever, really, living in the same apartment, working at the library every day, I never bothered to do anything about it," he said, breaking the silence as they approached a lone bench overlooking the water. She ginned at the darkened horizon as another little piece of him fell into place. Of course, the damn Crocodile could not erase him completely. Her Killian was still there, somewhere, buried beneath a lifetime of new memories and experiences.

"It is wonderful, isn't it?" she agreed, recognizing the opportunity she was presented with. She had to believe that the memories would come, if she only nudged him in the right direction. "Did you know I once lived on a ship? It was the most amazing time of my life. I quite miss it."

"Oh? And what exactly does a woman such as yourself do onboard a ship?" he questioned. Even as he asked the question, he couldn't really see her in some stereotypically feminine setting, either. She was no business woman, no teacher. She was more.

"Don't let my looks fool you. I know my way around."

He chuckled as they took their places beside each other on the bench. Ever the gentleman, Killian removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. A fleeting thought gave Emma pause. How would he react if she told him he'd done this before?

 **Misthaven, fifteen years ago**

 _Princess Emma knew that she was being stupid, but she just couldn't help herself. She'd spent the last three years of her life hiding away, under heavy cloaks and false names. Being here now, just a day's journey from the castle was a foolish thing to do. But that was precisely why she was here._

 _She was so sick and tired of hiding away. She knew, logically, that the only way she'd every truly have the freedom to live as she wanted was to get her hands on a magic bean. For, as long as she stayed in the Enchanted Forrest, she was a princess, she was obvious and recognizable. Even worse, she was findable. All her parents or anyone else for that matter, needed was a locating potion._

 _Still, being stuck in the forest, in little lean-tos and huts, or seedy inns run by rather questionable landlords, was beginning to suffocate her. She hated the fact that, at any moment, she could be discovered and carted back to the castle, but she would not spend her time cowering in fear of being caught. She had run away for the sake of being free, and having her own life. That was exactly what she was going to do._

 _Her fingers closed around her tankard of ale, and she downed the last of it greedily. She raised her hand, gesturing to the nearest barmaid for another. The night was still young, and she was not interested in the idea of wasting any of it. If she was going to run the risk of getting caught, she was going to do it right. By the time another tankard had been set in front of her, a boisterous group of men had stumbled into the establishment, and proceeded to make as much noise as possible._

 _She watched them for a moment, taking another sip of her drink. They raised their glasses with a deafening cheer before throwing back whatever hadn't been sloshed onto muscular arms or wide open shirts. She heard something about treasure, or conquests, maybe, but it was altogether too loud to hear them properly over the din of the room._

 _Pirates, then._

 _The thought of them had her realizing something unexpected about herself. She envied them. Pirates did things for themselves. If they wanted to go somewhere, they went. If they wanted to do something, they did it. They answered to absolutely no one, and Emma found that to be quite the novel idea._

 _She tried very hard to mind her own business, to treat this night for what it was, a much needed break from the hiding and paranoia, but her mind kept going back to the pirates. She wasn't sure if it was because of how obnoxiously loud they were being, or if it was because she was subconsciously thinking over her chances of going over there and convincing them to take her with them._

 _It was a fools dream, though, and so every time she caught herself staring, she pulled her eyes back down towards her drink, and tried to ignore them._

 _That notion became completely impossible though, when one of them suddenly found himself sitting across from her. He wasn't exactly sure why he was there, why this lass was enough to distract him from his original task of locating some more rum, but he was there nonetheless._

 _Of course, then he gave himself a moment to really look over the woman across from him, and while she was beautiful, that was not what anchored him to his spot across from her. Actually, he wasn't really sure what was so enticing about her, but if he was being honest, he didn't really care. He suddenly felt as if, sitting there, across from her in the middle of the crowded tavern, he was exactly where he was supposed to be._

" _I hope you don't find it rude of me to enquire about the reason such a lovely lass is sitting alone this night?" The man said, his tone low and rough and questioning. His black hair and electrifying blue eyes made him incredibly handsome, much more so than any of the princes her parents had tried to pair her with._

 _She blushed. Emma, the same woman who had run from relationships her whole life, who was here hiding from some horrendous arranged marriage, blushed as if she was not completely content on her own._

" _I haven't many friends," was all she said in response._

 _He grinned back at her. "A mighty shame that is. Let's change that, shall we? I'm Killian, though most people prefer my more colorful moniker, Hook." Again, he had no idea what had possessed him to tell her his given name, but for some reason, for her, he did._

" _Emma," she replied, nervously tangling her fingers in the necklace she wore. It was a gift from her parents when she was young, a perfectly crafted silver swan. Her eyes shot down to where his arms disappeared below the table, a quick stab of fear lancing through her. Everyone recognized that name, Captain Hook, the most dastardly pirate to ever sail the seas._

 _Killian reeled back at the sight of her apprehension. "I don't mean you any harm, lass."_

 _Emma had always had a gift for uncovering falsehoods, and so, she knew that he wasn't belaying one onto her. She was safe with him. She pulled her hands away from her neck in favor of running her fingers through her hair, and pulling it over one shoulder. "I know."_

" _I meant what I said," he continued, his eyes searching her face. "You are quite beautiful, like that swan you seem so fond of." At this, he pointed to where the silver pendant rested in the middle of her collar bone. After a moment of silence, he continued thoughtfully, "Swan. I believe that is the perfect thing to call you, so beautiful, majestic, and graceful."_

 **Storybrooke, present day**

The moon was high above their heads by the time their conversation had wound down. Emma figured that it was approaching midnight, but still, she did not want this date of theirs to end. She feared going back to the Bed and Breakfast alone, sleeping by herself in that too big bed. Now that she'd had a taste of this new life with Killian she was loathed to let it end.

Just throughout the course of one night, she'd learned so much about this new version of Killian, that he was rather shy and reserved until you got to know him, that he'd always dreamed of sailing away, just liked she'd pictured in her head, that, at least according to his skewed memories, he'd come to this town to escape the heartbreak of losing his brother, and his girlfriend all within the span a of a few months.

She hated that even in this new reality, he'd still suffered just as much as before.

 **XxxXxxX**

On the other side of town, completely oblivious to Emma's attempts at salvaging her marriage and breaking the curse, Mary Margaret snuck into the private room of one, John Doe. Though she wasn't breaking any rules, (visiting hours weren't over for another thirty minutes) she felt oddly like she was doing something she wasn't supposed to.

Still, she'd promised Henry when she'd asked to borrow his book, that she would do what she could to wake the man up. At first, it was awkward, reading to an empty room, and a man who, most likely, could not hear a word she said, but after a while, she felt the story of Snow White and her Prince Charming calm her, and she became invested. She'd had no idea that this version was so different from the classic Disney one.

She also had no idea just what effect the simple story would have on the sleeping man.

 **XxxXxxX**

The next morning, when news of the missing coma patient reached Regina's ears, she realized that if she truly wanted her revenge, she was going to have to come up with a new plan, and she knew just where to start: the Savior and her pirate.


	8. Of Curses and Crocodiles

**A/N- I know, I know, this is long overdue. I guess my only excuse is that I've been so wrapped up in what's happening in the show right now, that I just haven't really been thinking about where this is going. I mean, I have a pretty good idea of what I want to happen, but I don't really know any of the details. As always, the poll is still up.**

 **-S.**

Things were somehow different when Emma woke up the next morning. She wasn't quite sure what it was that had her on edge, but she knew one thing for certain: things were changing in this frozen little town. Maybe her being there had somehow been enough to get things moving in the right direction. Then again, when had things ever been that easy?

She followed the same routine she had every day for the past few weeks now: waking up at the crack of dawn – a force of habit from years spent on board the Jolly, getting breakfast at Granny's where she'd undoubtedly run into Killian again, and then running off to escort Henry to school behind the Queen's back. It was a world away from what she wanted to be doing; she wanted to be searching that book for answers, formulating a plan, impaling the Queen on a sword she no longer had.

Hell, anything would be better than playing house with the Evil Queen.

After Henry had been deposited on the front steps of the school, Emma found herself wandering the streets of Storybrooke, desperate for something to do. It was the worst kind of boredom, she decided, to not a have a thing to do when she was painfully aware that the Queen had to be stopped. And, if Henry was to be believed, she was the only one capable of doing so. But, short of getting her husband to fall in love with her again and share True Love's kiss with her, she was at a loss.

Still, the idea of seeing Killian again had brought an all too rare smile to her lips, and she figured that, well, it was worth a shot. At the very least, she'd get to spend the day with him. A funny feeling settled in her gut when she realized that, for the first time since she'd set foot in this town, Killian had not stopped by the diner for breakfast.

That was her second clue that something had gone amiss in the time she'd spent sleeping that night.

That knowledge, coupled with the strange feeling she'd had upon waking that morning, had a cold dread slithering down her spine and settling in her stomach. Something was not right, and she was going to figure out what the hell it was.

Killian had told her that he spent a good portion of his time working as a technician at the library alongside a woman called Lacey. She remembered how her heart clenched when he told her, in that shy, quiet way of his (something she was still getting used to) that Lacey was his only real friend in town. She would know what was going on. She had to.

She wasn't too far from the library, and, seeing as she'd left her car at the inn, she took off at a run, desperate to understand just why it felt like her world was suddenly about to implode. She must have been imagining things, right?

By the time she reached the front steps of the library, her breathing was labored, and she found herself unable to think straight.

The bell above the door chimed when Emma pushed it open, a feeling of trepidation washing over her. Had it only been a day since she'd seen Killian last? She was beginning to think that this whole curse thing was tearing away at her sanity.

"Can I help you?" a young woman questioned from behind the circulation desk. She had dark wavy hair, kind eyes, and an accent that Emma couldn't place. Still, she seemed vaguely familiar. Emma thought perhaps, that she'd seen the woman in Henry's storybook at some point. Yes, that had to have been the reason.

Silently, Emma moved a bit further into the room, hoping that her little excursion would prove to her how foolish she'd been. Any moment now, Killian would waltz around the corner of a bookshelf, and everything would be fine. Or, as fine as things _could_ be, while everyone was trapped in another realm with a set of fake memories.

"Uh, yes," she began, stepping up to the circulation desk, close enough to see the empty blue of the woman's eyes, bereft of her true memories and identity, just like everyone else. "I-I'm looking for Colin? Colin Jones?" Oh, how she hated the way her voice shook with the words. Again, she had to remind herself to be strong and brave-a true pirate.

Lacey's eyes did not light up with a sudden recognition, as Emma had expected. In fact, she stared back at Emma, her gaze as blank as ever. Fear churned in Emma's gut, and clenched painfully at her heart when Lacey responded with a simple:

"Who?"

"Don't you have a-a technician who works here with you?"

No! This was not happening. This was _so_ not happening!

"No…" she responded slowly, as if it was the most obvious thing in world, as if Emma was a three year old who had yet to truly understand how the world worked. She was _not_ crazy! Bloody hell, she was so sick of feeling like that was all she was. "I've worked alone forever. There's no one here but me."

"Are you-are you sure?"

The strange, almost pitying look in Lacey's eyes was all the confirmation Emma needed. Even though the breath had only just returned to her lungs, she turned on her heal, and ran as fast as she could out of the building. She had to get away. She had to-to go back to the Jolly Roger and sail so far away that this cursed town was nothing more than a nightmare, that her own set of cursed memories to try and forget about. She couldn't be alone, she just couldn't be-

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma caught movement in one of the buildings across the street, and suddenly, something occurred to her. Henry had said that Rumplestiltskin had helped the Queen cast the curse. _He practically owned the town._ If anyone knew what the hell was going on here, it was the bloody Crocodile.

With a new bout of determination rising up within her, Emma marched across the street and barged into the Crocodile's decrepit old pawn shop.

"Ah," he sighed, lingering behind the counter. He rested his hands out on the tabletop in front of him, splaying out his fingers. "Miss Swan, what a lovely surprise. Whatever can I do for you?"

 _Give me the pleasure of dismembering you._ Emma thought darkly as she stalked up to the Dark One himself. She remembered hearing horror stories about him. She remembered eavesdropping on a conversation her parents had one night: how they'd come to the agreement that, regardless of how terrifying he was, he was the only one who stood a chance against the Queen.

If only they knew that he'd sooner work with her.

"Oh, cut the act, Crocodile. I want to know what the _hell you did to him_."

A devious little smirk cut across the Dark One's face. Emma wondered if he'd still be smiling like that as his head rolled away from his body. She was not usually a very violent person, but for the monster who'd broken Killian's heart and stolen his hand, she'd show just how much of a pirate she really was.

There was a sword hanging on the wall behind him. Decorative or not, she was sure she could find a use for it. Perhaps Rumplestiltskin would enjoy seeing just what his innards looked like. He'd probably be one of the only beings who'd live to tell the tail. Now, she just had to find a way to get around him…

"I'm afraid I don't have any idea what you mean." Something sparked in his eyes, and Emma suddenly found her resolve weakening. "I think you're confused, Princess. You should leave, before you get yourself into something you can't get out of."

"No!" Emma shot back, her anger returning full force. "You're going to answer me! Where is Killian?"

The Dark One's eyes flashed again, and Emma had to struggle to remember just what her question had been. He waved his hand, and the door flew open behind her, smacking against the outer wall of the building. The sound reverberated around in Emma's skull for a moment, and she got the strangest feeling that she was being dismissed.

"Gone."

And then she found herself walking out of the pawnshop against her will.

 **XxxXxxX**

Hours later, Emma sat at the docks, her toes just barely grazing the water below her. She thought for a moment, that a bright, sunny day on the water was the perfect opportunity for a break from the rest of the world. For thoughtful self reflection. Her eyes roved down towards the water, as if the answers to all of life's problems might lie in its depths. _Gods, she was so stupid._ After all those years of searching for the damned Crocodile, she finally had him within her grasp, and she went in half cocked without a plan.

And now, Killian was paying for it.

Emma heard footsteps behind her, but at that moment, she couldn't have cared less. It could have been the Crocodile, come to finish what he'd started all those years ago, or the Queen, who hated her simply because of who her mother was. Honestly, Emma didn't really care. She had failed. She had failed at the one thing she had set out to do: find her husband. Well, she thought a moment later, maybe she'd failed at two things. Now she had no way to break the curse.

"Emma?" came a quiet voice from behind her. "I thought you were going to pick me up from school."

Oh look, a third thing she was terrible at: motherhood.

"What are you doing here?" Henry asked, before shrugging off his backpack and lowering to sit beside her. "Did something happen?"

Of course Emma loved her son dearly, even after less than a month in his company, but right now, she just didn't think she was up for the conversation. "You should go home, lad, before the Queen gets to angry." Her eyes roved over the horizon, and she refused to meet his gaze. She hoped he wouldn't notice.

He noticed.

"Okay, so you're in a bad mood," he said, also not looking at her. "I think I may have something that could cheer you up."

Emma's only response was to cock her head to the side ever so slightly.

"You're dad is awake. I heard Sherriff Graham tell Miss Blanchard after school. Do you know what this means?" he asked. Emma's heart leapt in her chest at the good news, but still, she wasn't sure if anything would be able to raise her spirits right now. "She read him my book, and he woke up! I guess he was confused, because he left the hospital. That's why the Sherriff got involved-they had to go find him."

Finally, Emma met his eyes, a sad smile on her face. It confused Henry, but he didn't comment on it. "You know what, Henry? That really is good news. It's exactly what I needed to hear right about now."


End file.
